


Love is Power

by HamHamHeaven



Series: Greyscale [16]
Category: Acid Black Cherry, Bull Zeichen 88, GacktJOB, Jrock, S.K.I.N. (Japanese band), Siam Shade, VAMPS (Japanese Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Colorblind Soulmate AU, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Light Masochism, M/M, Open Relationships, Oral Sex, Piercings, Polyamory, Tattoos, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-03-10 20:50:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13509540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HamHamHeaven/pseuds/HamHamHeaven
Summary: Jun-Ji finds himself opening up to a life he'd never dared to dream of when he gives in to the impulse to get a tattoo.





	1. Makin' your Life

**Author's Note:**

> Set about eight years before the second half of Dreamer from Darkness. Familiarity with that story isn't necessary. Additional tags will probably be added as chapters are posted, and the rating may go up at some point, depending on how frisky everyone gets.  
> 

It’s a quiet night.  Quiet enough to hear the clicking of heels on the pavement beyond the shop door as the few pedestrians in the area hurry past.  Enough to hear the hum of the vending machines outside, the buzz of the neon lights in the window, and the rumble of bass from the basement club next door.  Ju-Ken hates slow, quiet nights like these.  They’re boring, and they make it hard to pay the rent.

Money’s not quite as tight as all that these days, but he still remembers a time when it was.  Days ago it seems, when he and his partner stepped out from under their mentor’s wing and opened a tattoo and piercing parlour of their own.   For the longest time it was just the two of them; then Hazuki showed up a couple of years ago and talked them into giving him a job.  Not a bad decision all told.  Hazuki is a hard worker and shows a lot of potential.  Although, the unrequired love and mutual pining for his best friend has started to get on Ju-Ken’s nerves.

“Ne, Ken, if you’re done back here, I’m going to turn the lights off to save electricity.”

Speaking of a love that gets on your nerves….

“They’re fluorescents, Babe,” he reminded his partner.  “They cost like… ¥5 a day to run if you’d just let them go rather than constantly turning them on and off.”

Arimatsu pokes his head around the door frame of one of the private rooms and gives his boyfriend a frown.

“Even ¥5 a day is a waste if no one’s using them,” he insists.  “And I hate to tell you this, Ken-chan, but I don’t think anyone else is going to turn up tonight.”

At that very moment, the front door slides open, and a good-looking guy with damp blond hair stumbles breathlessly in.

“Oh, now that’s just bad timing,” Arimatsu protests.

But Ju-Ken can tell by the way his eyes are raking up and down the customer’s body that he doesn’t mind being proven wrong in this case.  Not that he blames his soulmate; it’s an _awfully_ nice view, particularly with the way his navy shirt is clinging to his heaving torso as if it were painted there.

_Quiet night just got a lot more interesting._

 

Jun-Ji hadn’t intended to get a tattoo that evening.  Of course, the thought has been simmering in the back of his mind since she first said it was over between them, but even as he sits with his ex-wife’s white wine dripping off the frame of his glasses, “I should get that tattoo tonight” is the furthest thing from his mind. 

The idea, when it comes, strikes like lightning.  One second he’s shuffling blindly along the street, trying to fathom how she has the nerve to be pissed that he is in _his_ favourite restaurant on the very night she happens to have a blind date.  As if he’d subconsciously known she was going to be there and had set out to ruin her night?  The next second, a bright neon sign appears in his peripheral vision, and he’s rushing down the alley, tripping up over the curb into the shop like he’s being chased.

This isn’t how Jun-Ji normally does things.  He’s one for research and planning, for cautious deliberation.  Not spontaneity.  He knows nothing about this shop, the artist’s style, or long-term quality.  He hasn’t been this reckless in years… not since he met _her_.  Still, the place looks and smells clean… the part he _can_ smell over his own Riesling-soaked clothing.

“What can I do for you?” the person seated at the desk enquires.

Jun-Ji takes in the appearance of the man who must be the proprietor:  muscular ink-covered arms, a curtain of wavy hair to his shoulders, and a long bead-studded goatee.  Well damn, he’s hot at least.  As is the other guy further toward the back – white blond hair peeking out from the white bandana tied around his forehead.  And sporting some beautiful tattoos of his own.  That’s promising.

Here’s another thing Jun-Ji hasn’t done in years – allowed himself to notice how attractive other men are.  _She_ never liked that.

“I’m hoping to get a tattoo done if you have time.”

The man at the desk scans pointedly from one side of the room to the other.

“Should have enough time for that, yeah.”

Arimatsu gives a snort of amusement, and a smirk tickles the corner of Ju-Ken’s lips at the way the man’s cheeks flush when he finally registers the emptiness of the place.

“D-didn’t want to assume,” he mutters.

“What sort of tattoo are we talking about?”

The customer produces a mobile from his back pocket, pokes around for a couple of minutes, then shoves it into Ju-Ken’s hand.  As he does so, Ju-Ken is hit by a wave of vinegary stench.

“Have you been drinking?” he queries.  “I don’t work on people who are intoxicated; bleeds too much.”

The flush on the man’s cheeks begins creeping up his neck and over his ears.

_Cute._

“Ah, no.  I didn’t drink any of it; just had it thrown in my face.”

Arimatsu gives him a sympathetic look, while Ju-Ken studies the image on the screen: two lines of English in some script-y text he can’t read. 

“Hmm… I‘m hesitant to write stuff if I don’t know what it says,” he drawls.  “People tend to get pissed at me when they find out something is misspelled or that the words actually say something stupid.”

The young man’s expression droops.

“I double checked the spelling, and ran it through a couple of translators to be sure.  You’re not gonna be marking me ‘cash only’ or something like that.”

Arimatsu leans over Ju-Ken’s shoulder to read the screen.

“Nice font.  Where would you want it?”

“Over my heart.”

“Go on, Ken,” Arimatsu gives Ju-Ken a playful shove.  “It’s not like we’ve got anything else more pressing to take care of.”

The grin he sends the customer is definitely a flirty one, and Ju-Ken rolls his eyes at his soulmate’s brazen behaviour, torn between annoyance and amusement.

“Why don’t _you_ do it, then?” he challenges.

_If you’re so eager to have him stay._

“Nah, script isn’t my style.  But I can call Hazuki back if you don’t want to….”

“I’ll do it,” grumbles Ju-Ken good-naturedly.  “What’s your name?”

“Jun-Ji,” the man bows, hair flopping into his face as he does so.  “Sakuma Jun-Ji.”

Ju-Ken offers an ink-covered hand, and Jun-Ji has to wipe his own on the back of his trousers before accepting the handshake, because something about the older man’s intensity is making his palms sweat.

“Nice to meet you, Junji-san.  I’m Ju-Ken, and this is my partner Arimatsu.  D’you mind if I send this image to myself so that I can resize and print it?”

Jun-Ji’s heart flutters a little. 

_Does he mind giving his number to a muscular, tattooed wet dream?  Hell, no!_

“Whatever’s easiest for you,” he offers, feeling the heat rise in his face again.

Ju-Ken notes the blush and ignores it for the time being.  It could be nothing, after all; worry about a stranger happening across whatever dirty pictures he keeps stored in his phone perhaps.

“Ari, help him fill out the paperwork while I do this?” Ju-Ken suggests.

“Sure!” Arimatsu agrees.

He produces a clipboard and pen from somewhere behind the desk.

“Paperwork?” Jun-Ji echoes as he’s led toward a bench near the wall.

“Medications, allergies, illnesses that could affect how you ink up… basic stuff like that,” Arimatsu reassures him, sitting closer than is strictly necessarily.

There’s plenty of room on the other side for Jun-Ji to move away if he’s uneasy.  But while Arimatsu’s obvious interest is unexpected, Jun-Ji can’t say he doesn’t find it flattering.

It doesn’t take long to complete the forms.  Arimatsu takes the clipboard and casually tosses it onto the desk.  Sure, he _ought_ to enter everything into the computer, but he’s been reading over Jun-Ji’s shoulder as he writes and knows there’s nothing that Ju-Ken needs to be concerned about.  Administrivia can wait for later when this sexy young thing is gone again. 

“This way.”

He gestures toward one of the private rooms at the back, and Jun-Ji follows after him.

“Good thing we left the lights on, ne?” Ju-Ken mutters none too subtly as they go.

Jun-Ji throws him a confused look, and Arimatsu flips him off before disappearing around the wall.

“Don’t mind him,” Arimatsu advises.  “He’s a great artist, but something of a cranky bear at times.”

“Did he do these for you?” Jun-Ji asks, reaching out to _almost_ touch Arimatsu’s sleeve.

“Most of them,” he replies, proudly indicating a couple of his favourites pieces that his lover designed.  “You can touch ‘em if you want; they’re more than healed.  A few our sensei did for me while I was apprenticing.  Also have a bit of Hazuki’s work here,” he points to his other arm.  “I’ve even got one I did myself.”

Jun-Ji perches on the edge of the table, at perfect eye-level with the intricate work.

“On yourself?!  How old were you?”

“Fifteen.  _Stupid_ idea.  I keep it just to show kids how wrong things can go if they don’t know what they’re doing.”

Jun-Ji is intrigued.

“Where is it?”

Arimatsu grins like the Cheshire cat.

“Why Junji-san, how forward of you!” he teases.

Jun-Ji’s cheeks turn a delightful shade of pink.

“G-gomen.”

_Gods, he’s gorgeous,_ thinks Arimatsu. _What a shame it’s not going to take Ken very long to finish that stencil.  In half an hour, I could have him so worked up, he wouldn’t feel a hundred needles._

Unfortunately, any working up that may or may not occur will have to wait.

“So, show me exactly where you want this tattoo,” Arimatsu suggests.

Jun-Ji shakes his head.

“How many ways are there to position something over your heart?” he asks, even as he slowly begins to unbutton his shirt.  “Seems to me like you’re just trying to get my clothes off.”

“Is it working?” grins Arimatsu unrepentantly.

Jun-Ji can’t quite believe how openly the other man is flirting with him.  But feeling unusually confident, he makes a show of stripping it off, allowing Arimatsu the view he obviously wants.

“Are you this _friendly_ with all of your customers?”

“Nope.  Just the hot ones.”  Arimatsu’s enticing smile suddenly fades.  “Why?  Am I making you uncomfortable?  If I am, just tell me so.  I tend to be pretty forward when I find someone attractive, and I know that doesn’t always sit well with people.”

Jun-Ji thinks about it.  Of the two of them, he finds Ju-Ken more alluring, but Arimatsu is good-looking too.  And though bold, he doesn’t seem… aggressive, like the sort who wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. 

“I don’t mind,” he shrugs nonchalantly.  “As long as you’re prepared for the possibility that I might pick up all those hints you’ve been dropping.”

Arimatsu doesn’t mind in the least.

“If you’re a good boy for Ken, maybe I’ll let you search for that tattoo I did on myself.”

Jun-Ji stares right into Arimatsu’s eyes and tries not to blink or tremble.

“What’s my prize for finding it?”

Another milestone for the evening –hitting on a complete stranger.

Before Arimatsu can throw caution to the wind and pounce, Ju-Ken arrives, stencil in hand.  It doesn’t take more than a glance for him to figure out that Arimatsu has been using the excuse of “placement” to get Jun-ji’s shirt open and probably to run his fingers all over the customer’s torso.  He considers telling his partner off for being grossly unprofessional, but from the way Jun-Ji’s gaze is roving hungrily over Arimatsu’s beautiful collarbone, Ju-Ken gets the impression the young man doesn’t have any objections to the treatment he’s receiving.

“Don’t you have some clamps to sterilize?” Ju-Ken grunts, shoving his partner out of the way.

“What do you need clamps for?” Jun-Ji asks, allowing Ju-Ken to direct him around the table.

“I handle most of the piercings here,” Arimatsu explains with a flick of the wrist toward Ju-Ken’s ear.  “Do you have any?”

“No.  My ex-wife hated things like that… and like this…, so I never got any.”

“And now that she’s your _ex_ -wife, you’ve decided to reclaim your body for yourself,” surmises Ju-Ken.

Reclaiming one’s body is a provocative thought when Ju-Ken’s latex covered fingers are massaging disinfectant into his skin and pressing the stencil gently to Jun-Ji’s chest.

“S-something like that, yeah.”

“Check the placement in the mirror, and then lie down on the table for me.”

Arimatsu moves to the doorway.

“You don’t mind if I stay and watch, do you?  I can keep an eye out front from here.”

“Are you asking me or Juken-san?”

“He’s asking you,” Ju-Ken clarifies, helping Jun-Ji to shift a bit on the table until he’s at the optimal angle.  “You’re the customer, so it’s what you’re comfortable with or not.”

“Then, sure, if you want to.”

 Ju-Ken gives his boyfriend a solemn look.

_Flirt all you want, but don’t interfere with the art_.

A nod of understanding is all he needs, and then it’s time to begin.

“I’ll do a small line just to give you an idea of what it feels like first.  And if you need to stop and take a break at any point, just let me know, okay?”

Jun-Ji hums in acknowledgement, struggling to figure out the best place to put his hands.

“Lay ‘em at your sides,” Arimatsu suggest.

Jun-Ji gives him a grateful nod.

“Ready?”

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“I guess… ready or not.”

“Just relax.”

There is a brief sting against his chest, like someone scratching at him with the point of a pin.

“Oh, that’s nothing,” he sighs.

Is that… disappointment in his voice?  Both Arimatsu and Ju-Ken chuckle.

“The intensity will probably ebb and flow as I work,” Ju-Ken warns jovially.  “Some spots are more sensitive than others.”

Ju-Ken is right.  After the first fifteen minutes, Jun-Ji is starting to realize he spoke too soon.  It’s not unbearable by any means, but it _does_ hurt.  A steadily-building sharpish burn and, in certain places, the needle hits make his ribcage feel as though it’s going to vibrate right out of his skin.  Yet just when it’s about to cross from “yes, please more” to “stop, I’ve had enough”, Ju-Ken retreats – to gently wipe away the blood, to dip back into his ink, to stretch his arms and back.

_A master sadist,_ Jun-Ji muses.   _Almost as if he knows the exact degree of pain I can handle._

Meanwhile, Arimatsu has laid a soothing hand on Jun-Ji’s ankle, and is stroking over the smooth inner bone with his thumb.  The contrast is startling in a very pleasurable sort of way, and adds to the already sensual atmosphere created by their earlier flirting. 

“You’re making him squirm, Ari,” Ju-Ken’s sonorous voice tickles over Jun-Ji’s skin as he speaks.

Arimatsu notices the quiver it produces in Jun-Ji’s abdominal muscles, and the movement unsurprisingly draws his attention a bit lower.

“I think _you_ are the one making him squirm, Ken-chan,” he replies wickedly.  “Like the pain, do you?”

Jun-Ji opens his eyes to deny the piercer’s assertion, only to notice his gaze directed pointedly toward Jun-Ji’s crotch.  His right hand quickly tugs at the hem of his shirt, which isn’t long enough to hide the obvious tent forming in his trousers.

“No need to be ashamed,” Arimatsu assures him, fingers teasing a bit higher up the inside of Jun-Ji’s trouser leg.  “I’ve had that reaction myself more than once when he’s been… working on me.  And I’d be more than happy to give you a hand with it if….”

“ _Not_ til I’m finished,” Ju-Ken practically growls.

Arimatsu licks his lips, pupils dilating at the order, and Jun-Ji wonders if maybe Arimatsu doesn’t mean a different sort of ‘work’ than just tattooing.

“Turn your head so I don’t catch your chin with my hand,” instructs Ju-Ken, brushing his index finger under Jun-Ji’s jaw.

The touch makes Jun-Ji shiver.  He quickly turns his head to avoid irritating the tattooist any further with his ‘squirming’.

“Good.”

_Good boy,_ Jun-Ji can imagine him saying. 

_Why is that so appealing?_

“And no more talking, Ari.  I want to be sure this last bit comes out perfect.”

_Art before play.  That’s the rule._

A reasonable rule, no question.  Ju-Ken is a perfectionist, and Jun-Ji deserves perfect art on his beautiful body.  Even so, Arimatsu impatiently awaits the okay to move forward with the plan that has been forming in his head since the Jun-Ji hinted that he’s open to Arimatsu’s overtures, staring hungrily at the inviting expanse of abdomen stretched out before him. 

Jun-Ji feels the heat of that intense look and has to close his eyes to focus on his breathing just so that he won’t make a complete fool of himself. 

Seconds tick slowly by until finally, _finally_ the last of the stencil marks have been replaced with black ink.  Arimatsu gives his boyfriend an excited, questioning look when he stops to wipe up the last of the blood.  Ju-Ken rolls his eyes, but smiles indulgently and gives an approving jerk of the head.

“All done,” he adds for Jun-Ji’s benefit.

That’s the signal.  Arimatsu’s hand slides up Jun-Ji’s trouser leg toward the inside of his knee: very suggestive but still not wholly obscene. 

“Want some help with that now?” he offers in a low purr.

Jun-Ji’s eyes snap open, and he lifts his head a bit to be sure the suggestion means what he thinks it does.  The expression on Arimatsu’s face, and the way he’s teasing ever closer to his inseam certainly _seem_ to mean exactly that.  Jun-Ji glances over at Ju-Ken, who has his back mostly turned while he tidies away the stack of used paper towels.

“Here?  A-are you sure…?”

“Absolutely.  My boyfriend won’t mind.”

What Arimatsu is trying to say is that Ju-Ken won’t mind if they play first and worry about aftercare later.  But Jun-Ji’s stomach suddenly churns with self-reproach at this unexpected new piece of information.

“Y-you have a boyfriend?”

Ju-Ken pauses his cleaning, and shares a perplexed look with Arimatsu over Jun-Ji’s head.

_Jun-Ji hasn’t realized?_

Silence is interpreted as guilt.

“I… you should have said something.  I’m not the sort of person who would ever help someone cheat on his….”

Jun-Ji hurriedly stands up, intending to beat a hasty retreat, but with all of the dopamine flooding his system and the blood concentrated in places other than his head, that’s a bad idea.  He wobbles precariously, black spots forming behind his eyes, only to have a tattooed arm catch him firmly around the waist and a strong chest pressed to his back.

“Easy, Juny,” Ju-Ken’s voice rumbles low in his ear.  “Calm down.  He’s not trying to cheat on anyone.  I don’t mind.”

“Y-you?” Jun-Ji turns to look up at the older man.  “Y-you’re his…?”

“Partner.  Soulmate.  Boyfriend.  Choose your favourite label.”

Well, that’s a relief and a disappointment all rolled into one.

“And you let him…?”

Jun-Ji makes a vague sort of gesture.

“We have… a set of terms we’ve worked out, yes,” Ju-Ken acknowledges.  “He wouldn’t have started flirting with you if I hadn’t been okay with it, and if you’d indicated that you weren’t interested, he would have left it alone.”

“I did _ask_ if I was making you uncomfortable,” Arimatsu reminds him, incredibly worried that the younger man is offended.

Jun-Ji extracts himself from Ju-Ken’s very comfortable hold and eases himself back down onto the table.

“You did.  And I _wasn’t_ ….”

He stares down at his hands for a while, trying to come to terms with what he’s hearing.  Two beautiful guys, together, but with express permission to… get involved with other people.  Though ‘involved’ is a rather undefined.  Maybe those terms Ju-Ken mentioned only allow for one-night-stand sorts of encounters.

“Guess you’re not interested anymore,” Arimatsu surmises, unable to keep the disappointment from his voice.  “I understand.  You’re not the first person who’s had a problem with it.”

Jun-Ji’s very uncertain about the entire situation, but it’s definitely not a question of lack of interest in what Arimatsu has to offer.  And he feels bad that the piercer might take it that way.

“You really don’t mind?” Jun-Ji asks Ju-Ken, studying his face for the slightest sign of hesitation.

Ju-Ken reaches out and twirls a strand of Jun-Ji’s hair around his finger, giving the younger man a reassuring smile.

“Not a bit.”

_Well, I’ve already deviated from the norm this much_ , thinks Jun-Ji.  _Might as well go for broke._  

“Then I’m still interested,” he declares, with so much confidence that he startles even himself.  “If _you_ still are.”

Arimatsu is kneeling at his feet in an instant, eager to prove his continued interest.  He nuzzles against the zipper of Jun-Ji’s trousers while his thumbs ghost over the ridges of Jun-Ji’s hipbones.  Jun-Ji groans in approval, and the smug chuckle from Ju-Ken seems to spur the piercer on.  It’s not long before Jun-Ji is hard again, fully recovered from the temporary disruption of mood.

Arimatsu’s fingers are just skimming along his trouser waistband, when another hand settles at Jun-Ji’s side.  Ju-Ken has seated himself on the table behind Jun-Ji and reached around to stroke over the younger man’s chest with some cool gel.

“Don’t let me interrupt,” Ju-Ken murmurs, “Just spreading on the antiseptic and plastic.” 

Jun-Ji doesn’t mind the extra contact one bit, and tentatively leans back to see if Ju-Ken will allow it to continue beyond what’s immediately necessary.  The way he shifts so that Jun-Ji’s weight falls more evenly against him would imply that he’s fine with it.  Meanwhile, Arimatsu hastily works open belt, button, and zip, freeing Jun-Ji from the confines of his pants with a forceful tug that bares him to the knees. 

Arimatsu hums in approval, rubbing along the inside of Jun-Ji’s thigh with his cheeks as he ogles his prize.

“Beautiful.”

“Very nice,” Ju-Ken agrees over his shoulder.

That succinct approval makes Jun-Ji’s heart pound even harder, but he doesn’t have more than a second to think about it before Arimatsu’s lips are wrapping around him, and thought of any sort requires entirely too much effort.  There is nothing but sensation – a sharp sting at his chest, wet heat between his legs, and a solid presence behind him.

“He’s good, isn’t he?” Ju-Ken remarks.

“Nnn, so good,” Jun-Ji praises, pressing up for more of Arimatsu’s mouth.

In fact, the entire situation is _so_ good, he wouldn’t mind staying like this for the rest of his life.  Not that it would be possible, the way Arimatsu is coaxing and enticing him closer and closer to ecstasy with each bob of his head.

_Close._

“Let go then,” Ju-Ken suggests softly.

Jun-Ji must have said it out loud.  Or maybe Ju-Ken is as skilled at reading his body’s desire for pleasure as for pain.  Who cares, really.  If Ju-Ken is telling him to let go, there’s no way Jun-Ji is going to disobey.  With a low moan and a jerk of the hips, he spills down Arimatsu’s throat, riding the shockwaves of bliss until his bones have turned to jelly.  Arimatsu’s tongue still caresses his over-sensitive flesh, and Ju-Ken’s hand still rests firmly at his side.

“Satisfied now?” jokes Ju-Ken.

“Hell yes,” Jun-Ji wheezes, perfectly seriously.

Arimatsu leans against Jun-Ji’s knee and smirks up at the two gorgeous men above him.

“For the time being,” he replies.

His voice is hoarse from the exertion, and Jun-Ji’s eyes roll back in his head at how sexy it sounds, to say nothing of the implication of his words.

Then again, implications almost derailed everything earlier.

“Time being?”

Ju-Ken gives him a brief squeeze and a peck to the temple.

“I think he’s counting on you wanting another tattoo soon.”

“Or a few piercings,” Arimatsu nods.  “You’d be irresistible with your lip pierced.”

A lip piercing?  That would be an impulsive choice.  And impulsive choices are proving to be _very_ rewarding.

“I may just take you up on that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **1)** VampireHydeFTW was kind enough to write me a fic starring these three, and I thought that would be enough to quench the thirst. Rookie mistake. Moreover, this was supposed to be a one-off, but my brain apparently doesn't do one-offs.  
>  **2)** [Story](https://youtu.be/e-9OXKY2-8A) and [chapter](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rwwhoi-cNF0) titles are taken from Siam Shade songs. Technically, this is a prequel to Dreamer from Darkness, but reading that is entirely unnecessary.  
>  **3)** There's a good bit of projecting on my part for what's going on with Jun-Ji and his ex. The tattoo last week was me reclaiming myself; this is me purging some negativity.  
>  **4)** Yes, IRL Juny had the piercings long before he ever began getting tattoos. This is marked AU, so there! For this chapter, he's got blond hair like he did back in the early Siam Shade days; orange will come later.


	2. Can't Forget You

They close up the shop early.  No one else turns up after Jun-Ji leaves, and Arimatsu’s brain is too foggy to allow concentration on any serious cleaning or bookkeeping.  He floats through his nightly routine by muscle memory, lost in thoughts of Jun-Ji until he’s flopped on the mattress waiting on his soulmate.  After a while, he realizes that he has been staring blankly at Ju-Ken preparing for bed, and once Arimatsu’s mind finally begins to process what his eyes are seeing, his blood boils with desire.

_He’s so effortlessly alluring._

Ju-Ken’s wearing nothing except a pair of old grey tracksuit bottoms slung low on his hips.  He has his glasses on and his long hair tied up in a messy bun, out of his way as he washes his face and brushes his teeth.  The little white flecks of toothpaste foam clinging to the corner of his mouth have Arimatsu swallowing hard.  He really has no choice but to drag his partner down next to him and try to devour him whole. 

It doesn’t take much to have Ju-Ken seeing stars – the show his boyfriend and their customer put on earlier having already put him in the right frame of mind.  A few sure strokes, one rough “gods, yeah, Baby, right there”, and a well-timed roll of the hips have him coming completely undone.  And with that pleasure arises the unmitigated joy being with his soulmate always produces.  Laughter swells in his chest like helium threatening to burst an over-filled balloon.

“C’mere, you.”

Ju-Ken gives Arimatsu one last hard kiss on the lips before flopping back boneless and breathless onto the mattress.

“Gods, you’re good at that!”

Arimatsu grins arrogantly as he uses his discarded shirt to wipe them both clean.

“Mmm, I know just what you like, don’t I!”

“I’ll say.  What brought all this on?”

“Do I have to have a reason to want you?”

“Not at all,” Ju-Ken replies around a yawn.  “I just didn’t expect you to be in that sort of mood after what happened earlier.”

Arimatsu tosses the soiled garment toward the laundry hamper, only barely missing.  He’ll deal with it in the morning.

“I am surprised you stuck around for that.”

“So am I, to be honest.  But it seemed rude to get up and walk out part-way through.”

“It didn’t bother you, did it?” Arimatsu asks, settling down against Ju-Ken’s bare frame.

“Why should it?  I’ve seen you on your knees before for guys much less attractive than Junji-san.”

Arimatsu is silent for a while, listening to the gradual decrease in Ju-Ken’s heartbeat as his body prepares for sleep.

“Thank you,” he murmurs softly, in case his lover is already dozing.

Ju-Ken cracks one eye open.

“For?”

“Keeping him from leaving.  If you hadn’t persuaded him to stay….”

“Didn’t involve much persuasion, Babe.  I just kept him from cracking his skull open on the floor long enough to clear up his misunderstanding.  Not sure _how_ he didn’t realize.”

“Either way, he came awfully close to walking out, and I…,” Arimatsu bites his lip.  “Thanks.”

Ju-Ken heaves a comfortable sigh and gives his boyfriend an affectionate squeeze.

“You’re pretty well hooked already, aren’t you?”

The way his soulmate squirms is proof enough he’s right.

“Yeah, I think I am,” Arimatsu reluctantly admits.  “Rookie mistake, too, getting this invested in someone I may never even see again.”

“I’d wager a month’s rent this won’t be the only time you see him,” Ju-Ken reassures.  “He was eyeing your collarbone like he wanted to try to lick the ink right off, and he all but promised to take you up on the piercing offer.”

“So did the last one, and nothing ever came of that.”

Ju-Ken scowls.

“Entirely different circumstances with the last one, Babe.  The two of you barely managed five words shouted at one another over the noise of that club.  Anyway, you deserve better than that jackass.  You were _way_ out of his league, and yet he kept acting like he was doing you a favour by paying attention to you.”

Arimatsu tilts his head at an uncomfortable angle just so that he can glare at his partner.

“You never told me that.”

“Not my place to tell you who to pursue, no matter how much I dislike the guy.  Now, your Junji?  He seems like the sort who would treat you the way you deserve to be treated.”

“He isn’t _my_ Junji,” Arimatsu denies.

“Hmm.  Wouldn’t take much to make him yours, I don’t think.  If you want him, that is.”

“Don’t get my hopes up, Ken, please.”

Ju-Ken doesn’t say another word on the subject.  He doesn’t feel the need to.  Time will tell which of them is right soon enough.

~~~~

Not so very far away, Jun-Ji lies staring at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep… again.  Normally he sleeps on his side, but his new tattoo has been preventing that lately.  Perhaps spontaneity has its downsides after all.  Still, he doesn’t repent the words tattooed over his heart; nor can he regret the hook-up.  Although, he constantly feels overheated, with the memories of what he did shifting from embarrassing to erotic and back again. 

_Arimatsu’s appreciative looks and teasing words.  Ju-Ken’s warm breath tickling over the needle’s sharp sting._

Jun-Ji squirms, linens bunching uncomfortably beneath him.

Such is the state of his life these past two weeks.  Every time he feels a twinge in his shoulder from the healing marks, he thinks of Ju-Ken and gets a corresponding twitch in his pants.  That’s usually followed by some lovely mental flashes of Arimatsu on his knees in front of him.  Women may be soft and pliant, but no one beats a man when it comes to oral stimulation, and Arimatsu is the best Jun-Ji has ever experienced.  More often than not, such thoughts end like this: sprawled on his back, eyes squeezed shut, fingers wrapped tightly around his length as the encounter plays on infinite loop behind his eyelids.

_Arimatsu’s lips and tongue; Ju-Ken’s firm hands and chest._

Whatever details Jun-Ji’s memory cannot produce, his imagination is happy to supply.  Sometimes he and Arimatsu have switched places, and he gets to stare up at that eager face distorted with pleasure; other times it’s Ju-Ken touching him, sure fingers mapping every contour of his body.  Tonight, Jun-Ji is imagining that he can feel the affect their behaviour is having on Ju-Ken, who is pressed hot and needy against his low back.  Causing a deep purr of approval each time Jun-Ji arches his spine.

_Let go._

With a groan, he does as ordered, painting his stomach white.  Yet, while the hazy warmth of physical release washes over him, his mind is still churning with unfulfilled need.  His hand and some fantasies just aren’t what he wants.  Those two men are quickly becoming something of an unhealthy preoccupation for him, and he has no idea how to cure it.  Arimatsu certainly implied he’d be interested in a ‘next time’, but Jun-Ji knows better than to trust offers carelessly made in the afterglow.

Would they really want to see him again, either of them?  Or would they find him pathetically desperate?  And how many ‘next time’s will it take to quench the fire that’s perpetually burning within him now?

 _Pull yourself together,_ he admonishes himself.  _If the business goes under because you fell asleep on the job, you won’t have to worry about seeing them again, because you won’t have money for things like tattoos and piercings.  Just sleep._

So he tries.  And fails yet again.

~~~~

Despite Ju-Ken’s willingness to wager their rent money, Arimatsu tries not to look for Jun-Ji over the next few weeks.  Tries not to glance excitedly at the door every time it slides open for a parcel deliveryman or a customer, and tries not to be disappointed when it’s not the customer he wants.  People don’t come back this soon after a piece is completed unless something is seriously wrong, and Arimatsu doesn’t want there to be anything seriously wrong with Jun-Ji or his tattoo.  Hazuki gives the piercer a weird look a couple of times when he sighs forlornly but wisely asks no questions. 

Arimatsu tries not to think about Jun-Ji as he types name and date of birth into the customer database; he fails miserably to keep himself from borrowing Ju-Ken’s mobile to steal the number off the image Ju-Ken sent himself from Jun-Ji’s phone.   He can’t _use_ the number; there’s no plausible pretext for any contact.   But he wants it.  Just having it saved away in his pocket feels like a promise that someday he’ll have a reason to make the call – that perhaps, please gods, meeting Jun-Ji wasn’t a onetime thing.

Those prayers are answered four weeks to the day later, when just after 8:00 PM, the door slides open and his favourite obsession walks in.  The way that the piercer’s face brightens upon seeing the new arrival answers a lot of Hazuki’s questions and creates about a dozen more.  But he simply steps aside and lets his boss welcome this person he’s obviously been waiting for.

“Sakuma-san!” Arimatsu greets with more fervour than he intended to display.  “Welcome back.”

Jun-Ji bows a bit awkwardly.  He’s rather ashamed of himself for losing the battle for mastery over his desires; although, the piercer’s genuine enthusiasm is reassuring.

“Ah, thank you,” Jun-Ji replies, “But there’s no need to be so formal, after….” 

His cheeks darken as he glances over at the unfamiliar employee.

_Does he know what went on between them?_

“Junji-kun, then?” Arimatsu offers.

That sounds nice: much more intimate.  Jun-Ji nods.

“What brings you in this evening?  D’you need Ken to touch up something, or have you decided to take me up on the lip piercing after all?”

Jun-Ji makes a noncommittal noise.  He doesn’t really have a reason to be there; he just couldn’t keep himself away any longer.

“I’ve been _thinking_ about the lip piercing, but I’d like to talk to you about some specifics before I decide.”

That’s perfectly fine with Arimatsu; he would talk to Jun-Ji about practically anything. 

“Sure!  What sort of things would you like to know?”

He steers the younger man toward his drafting desk, allowing Jun-Ji the chair while he settles on the desk’s corner, legs spread.  It’s an unintentionally provocative pose, and Jun-Ji has to force his focus up to Arimatsu’s face rather than allowing it to drop back down to eye level.  When Arimatsu finally comprehends why Jun-Ji seems so unwilling to let his gaze wander, he offers an apologetic smile and clumsily crosses his legs.

“Well, my concerns are about hygiene and the length of healing time.”

“You won’t need to worry about hygiene.  I will open the sterilized needle and clamp right in front of you; I would _never_ put you at risk by using dirty equipment.”

It’s the sort of guarantee any piercer might make to any customer.  Yet, there’s a soft ferventness behind Arimatsu’s words which seems to imply something more than just a business concern.

_I’d never do anything to harm you._

Jun-Ji shakes the thought off.

“No, I know you wouldn’t risk a customer’s health.  I meant more… for myself afterwards.”

“Oh, at home you’d be rinsing with a saline solution several times a day, avoiding foods that might get caught on it, and taking some additional care when you brush your teeth.  Pretty straight-forward.  Healing time is a bit more up in the air.  I’ve known them to heal in as little as six weeks or take up to three months.  Part of that will be your immune system; the rest will be how well you take care of it.”

Arimatsu steals a glance at Hazuki to be sure the younger man isn’t eavesdropping before lowering his voice and adding:

“The major downside would be no kissing or… other things… until it’s fully healed, which might interfere with your social life temporarily.”

“What social life?” Jun-Ji scoffs.

He could kick himself for admitting that aloud. 

_If Arimatsu didn’t think him a complete loser before, he sure as hell will now!_

Of course, Arimatsu doesn’t think any such thing.  In fact, he’s trying to figure out the best way to say that he’d be _thrilled_ to provide some extra spice to Jun-Ji’s social life whenever the younger man wants it without sounding creepy.  He draws breath to make the offer….

“Junji-san,” Ju-Ken hails, “Welcome back.”

Ju-Ken has suddenly appeared from the back, and the sunny expression lighting Jun-Ji’s face brings Arimatsu’s train of thought to a screeching halt.

_Oh.  It’s Ken he really wants?  I should have figured.  Of the two of us, who would choose me?_

Oblivious to the uncertainty racing through his soulmate’s mind, Ju-Ken sends him an ‘I told you he’d be back’ smirk as he strolls over.

“The tattoo isn’t giving you any problems, I hope.”

“None at all.  Would you like to see?” Jun-Ji offers.

Assuming his boyfriend will be keen for another glimpse of Jun-Ji’s skin, Ju-Ken agrees.  Jun-Ji unfastens the buttons of his shirt down to his navel and pushes the cotton fabric off his left shoulder to reveal the ink.  Ju-Ken tugs on a spare latex glove and runs a finger over the edge of the tattoo, testing the skin’s elasticity and colour.

“Looks good – no fading or bruising, lines are all staying sharp.  I wish everyone took as good care of their tattoos as you’re doing.”

Jun-Ji’s chest swells with pride.  Only briefly, though.  A few seconds later, a young woman walks through the door, and Ju-Ken excuses himself to speak with her.

“So…,” Arimatsu begins again, awkward now that he’s second-guessing his chances with Jun-Ji, “Have you decided about the piercing?”

Jun-Ji can tell that the piercer’s mood has darkened, but he can’t quite understand why.  He seemed perfectly fine a minute ago. 

 _Is it the young woman Ju-Ken is with?_  

“I… I’d like to think about it a bit more,” he replies slowly.

Arimatsu’s countenance falls further.

“But in the meantime, maybe I could start with something a little less intimidating?”

Here Jun-Ji goes again, making impulsive decisions.

“Such as?” Arimatsu asks.

“I dunno… an earlobe?”

_That’s an innocuous piercing, right?_

“What gauge?”

“Don’t care.  Whatever you think best,” Jun-Ji shrugs.

Years of training tell Arimatsu that a customer who ‘doesn’t care’ probably should hold off on his decision.  However, holding off means that Jun-Ji will go away again, and he can’t bear that thought.

“I’ll be right back.”

He walks to the front of the shop, shoving between Ju-Ken and Hazuki to access the display case where they keep the trays of jewellery.  He picks through them thoughtfully, setting aside a nice selection of pieces he thinks would suit the younger man, including a variety of sizes and metals.

_This may be a huge mistake.  Am I just setting myself up for disappointment with him?  If he’s here for Ken….  But is it worth the risk to try, on the off chance I’m wrong?_

He glances over his shoulder toward his desk, accidentally catching Jun-Ji’s eye.  The younger man tilts his head and gives the piercer a questioning sort of smile.  And the warmth that pools in Arimatsu’s chest only confirms that he’s more than willing to take the risk.  In fact, there isn’t much he wouldn’t do to get another taste of that gorgeous guy.

Returning to the opposite side of the room, he sets the tray down on his desk, perching on the corner again so that Jun-Ji will have to lean in close to him in order to see them.

“Here’s an idea of the sizes and styles we have.  Pick something you like.”

Jun-Ji moves nearer to examine the jewellery, extremely aware of how Arimatsu’s proximity is making his heart race. 

“Something like that.”

He points to a simple horseshoe design in one of the smaller gauges.  Arimatsu nods.

“That’s a good choice.  Not too big or too small to start; you can always stretch it a bit once it heals.  If you want to head back to the first room on your left, I’ll get you taken care of.”

Arimatsu’s offer sends a white-hot spark through Jun-Ji’s nerves.

_Take care of.  That’s what he said last time when he offered to…._

Arimatsu must be having the same thought, because he gives Jun-Ji a quick wink.

Gotta take the risk, even if he’s not who Jun-Ji would prefer.

“First on the left,” Jun-Ji acknowledges.

Unlike the flat table Ju-Ken used while tattooing, the table is Arimatsu’s room is bent in the middle like a swimming pool lounge chair. 

 _Or the chair at the dentist’s office_ , Jun-Ji grimaces.

Jun-Ji remains standing, even when Arimatsu steps in behind him and draws the privacy curtain.   His temperature is on the rise just from being alone, and he’s too filled with nervous energy to sit.

“Which ear?” Arimatsu asks as he lays out the supplies he’ll need.

The question catches Jun-Ji off guard.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Don’t know.  Don’t care.  Doesn’t matter.  Maybe we should wait until you have an actual opinion on these things,” the piercer half-teases.  “I wouldn’t want you to be disappointed with the result in the morning.”

Jun-Ji sees Arimatsu’s point, but if he waits, it may never happen.  His practical side may show up and convince him there are more sensible things to spend his money on.  Besides, that would make the entire evening a waste of their time.

“Which side do you think would look better?”

Arimatsu tilts his head, pleased to have the excuse to study Jun-Ji’s face carefully.  He notes the slight asymmetries, the direction his hairstyle parts, the faintest indication of laugh lines beginning to form.

_Too beautiful._

He steps closer, reaches out to brush the hair behind Jun-Ji’s ears, and gives Jun-Ji’s left earlobe a brief tug.

“Which side is more sensitive?”

Arimatsu is aware of two different theories.  One says that piercings heighten sensation in the surrounding tissue; the other claims they deaden it.  From a practical standpoint, then, the obvious choice would be to pierce the less-sensitive ear.  If Jun-Ji experienced additional sensation, so much the better, and if not, well, he hasn’t lost much.

“You mean like better hearing?”

Arimatsu can barely contain a snort of derision.  Either Jun-Ji is being intentionally obtuse, or he’s been incredibly neglected by his sexual partners. 

The piercer leans over, right into Jun-Ji’s personal space, allowing his breath to tickle over his neck just below the jawline.

“I mean like… responsive,” he murmurs, gently grabbing Jun-Ji’s earlobe with his teeth and giving it another tug.

“O-oh,” gasps Jun-Ji.

He probably ought to say something more than that, but his brain has taken a very sudden vacation, what with the way Arimatsu is nibbling and licking along the shell of his ear.  And the way his hands have found their way to Jun-Ji’s sides through the gap in his still-unbuttoned shirt.  Jun-Ji has to choke back a groan; there are other people in the building tonight, after all.

“I knew you’d have sensitive ears,” Arimatsu whispers.

“I-is that… b-bad?”

“Not at all.  Let’s try the other one.”

Arimatsu nips at his pulse point, and Jun-Ji has to grab a fistful of the back of Arimatsu’s shirt to keep himself upright.  Feeling Jun-Ji come undone under his touch certainly boosts Arimatsu’s confidence.  Still, he asks:

“Want me to stop?”

“No!”

Later when he thinks back on it, Jun-Ji will be both ashamed and amazed at how desperate having his earlobe sucked can make him.  For now, he clings to the piercer as if his life depends on it.  When nimble fingers begin to open the buckle of Jun-Ji’s belt, it occurs to him that Arimatsu might appreciate an _active_ participant in their tryst rather than someone just standing there stupidly, allowing himself to be manhandled like a blow-up doll.

“C-can I?” he requests, brushing his fingers over the zipper of Arimatsu’s jeans.

“Oh hell yes, Juny!” Arimatsu gives an airy laugh.  “Do whatever you like, Baby.”

And he means it.  In that moment, there’s absolutely nothing Jun-Ji could want that Arimatsu wouldn’t give him.  Fortunately, what Jun-Ji likes and what Arimatsu wants appear to be the exact same thing: skin on skin.  Hard length presses to heated length.  Arimatsu murmurs praises into the damp flesh of Jun-Ji’s neck while the younger man muffles his enthusiasm against the piercer’s clavicle, hands moving in tandem as they race toward completion.  They have to stay quiet, which adds to the thrill of it all. 

Things become sweaty and blurry; the world fades until they are the only two beings in it.  Jun-Ji’s muscles tremor, and Arimatsu unthinkingly bites his neck as the piercer spends himself against his lover’s palm.  The molten heat and sudden pain rip a sharp “AH!” from Jun-Ji’s throat as he finds his own release.

“Everything okay?” Hazuki’s concerned voice calls through the curtain.

Both can scarcely draw breath, but Arimatsu manages to pant out:

“J-just an…overly… s-sensitive… ear.”

Jun-Ji shivers with laughter and pleasure, arms locking around Arimatsu’s waist for stability.

“Guess I _have_ to get the piercing now, don’t I?”

Arimatsu nuzzles apologetically at the bruise that’s already started to form beneath the bite mark.

“I guess you do.  Sorry.”

“Don’t be.  It was definitely worth it.  And…,” Jun-Ji hesitates for the briefest instant before continuing, “I think I’ll go ahead and set an appointment for the lip piercing before I leave.”

_I want to see you again._

Arimatsu draws back and stares into Jun-Ji’s face, hope fluttering in his heart.

“Any time you want, I’ll be here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **1)** Tuesday is apparently the new Monday. Sorry about that. Here's a link to this chapter's [title song](https://youtu.be/2esCftvfeK0) to make up for it.  
>  **2)** In case you were wondering about the nickname, in addition to the fact that I wanted something distinct from Kiryu's Junji (aka "Juju"), this Junji has a line of merchandise called [JunyJammy](http://junyjammy.com/).  
>  **3)** Most tattoo/piercing parlours I've been to use curtains for privacy rather than doors. That's probably not universal, but we're going to go with it.  
>  **4)** Also going to go ahead and add this to the Greyscale!Verse, because that's what the muses want me to do. I have no idea how that's going to impact Tatsurou/Hazuki, and they don't seem inclined to tell me. Brats.


	3. Glacial Love

The best laid plans of mice and men… as the saying goes.  Jun-Ji’s follow-up appointment is thwarted when he comes down with what he _insists_ is just a bad case of dust allergies.  Despite his assertion and much to Jun-Ji’s disappointment, Arimatsu refuses to do an oral piercing while there’s the slightest chance of an infection present.  Jun-Ji grumbles, but accepts the precaution and allows Arimatsu to add another ring to his earlobe instead.  Arimatsu apparently has no concerns over catching cold himself, based on the eager way he drops to his knees as soon as the work is completed, and Jun-Ji isn’t about to question the hypocrisy when it gets him the attention he’s been craving.  Besides, there’s always next time.

Next time, Jun-Ji makes a point of showing Arimatsu just how skilled his lips and tongue are before they are out of commission.  The piercer half-regrets ever suggesting the lip ring at all once he’s experienced Jun-Ji’s talents: a fact that has Jun-Ji smirking the entire way home, despite his pain, and plotting other methods of keeping Arimatsu captivated until he’s fully healed.  One piercing becomes five as Jun-Ji and Arimatsu develop a routine of sorts.  Jun-Ji turns up at the shop once a month or so.  They chat; they flirt; they hook up in the back room; Jun-Ji leaves with an extra piece of metal attached to his head and another piece of his heart missing.

At each new appointment, Arimatsu pays special attention to how Jun-Ji’s lip is healing, mentally counts down the days until he can risk some of the temporarily verboten contact.  Jun-Ji is incredible, and the more they meet, the more he craves.  Four weeks is out of the question; eight weeks _might_ have been possible if he’d been sure he could limit himself to something chaste.  But Arimatsu knows very well that he’s not going to limit himself to something chaste when it comes to Jun-Ji’s tempting lips.  And so whether he likes it or not, he’s forced to wait the full three months.

At first Ju-Ken teases him about his obsession, but once he realizes the depth of Arimatsu’s feelings, he stops making light of the situation and begins to encourage his boyfriend to make his intentions clearer.

“He’s never gonna know what you’re after unless you tell him, Babe.”

Intellectually, Arimatsu knows that’s true.  Intuitively, he feels compelled to follow Jun-Ji’s lead in that realm.  After all, Jun-Ji is the one recently divorced.  He may not be in the market to settle back down into something serious just yet.

 

Jun-Ji’s even more impatient than Arimatsu.  He’s as addicted to the piercer’s cheerful voice and smiling face as he is to the pleasure and pain he receives each visit.  But he knows he can’t keep it up forever.  Sooner rather than later, he’s going to run out of things he’s willing to poke holes through.  Which is why he _ought_ to fess up to how he feels already.

_Why is it so difficult to tell someone you’re interested in him beyond his professional capacities!_

When he considers things rationally, Jun-Ji recognizes that he should cut himself some slack; he’s been out of the dating game for quite a while and was never the most confident even back when he was playing the field.  Still, something about broaching the topic of wanting _more_ seems particularly intimidating given the fact that Arimatsu already _has_ someone with whom he shares most of the things that would fall into the “more” category.

_Is dating even allowed?  Or are they limited to an acquaintances-with-benefits sort of arrangement?_

Jun-Ji can’t tell.  He could ask, of course.  But that would mean risking the answer he doesn’t want to hear.    

Then there’s the added complication of Jun-Ji’s continued attraction to Ju-Ken to be considered.  Whenever the opportunity arises, Jun-Ji engages Ju-Ken in conversation, hoping to catch the tattooist’s eye as he’s done the piercer.  He’s not particularly successful.  Ju-Ken is friendly enough in a cursory sort of way but always excuses himself well before any intimacy occurs.  Jun-Ji can’t decide whether that shows a lack of recognition or a lack of interest, though either interpretation seems to indicate his fascination with the tattooist is a lost cause.  Maybe it’s better to just take what he can get and leave the rest alone.

That doesn’t mean he’s not going to push the boundaries of what he can get.  Jun-Ji does whatever he can think of to draw attention subtly.  Despite horrifying memories from his teenage years, Jun-Ji allows his sister to take him clothing shopping one weekend, spending far too much money in the process; the appreciative looks the sales girl casts in his direction each time he steps out of the changing room give him some hope that others might also approve of the wardrobe update.  He trades in his older glasses for some stylish new frames and a pair of contact lenses, though he pockets the older frames to wear in the garage where no one cares how he looks.  With the new contacts, he inspects his reflection critically in the mirror and decides on one last alteration.

 

The changes most certainly _are_ admired.

Arimatsu nearly climbs right over the desk when he catches a glimpse of Jun-Ji’s new style.  Modern frames?  Absolutely.  Tight jeans?  Yes, please.  Still, it’s the hair that has him drooling most.  Jun-Ji has had his long, dirty blond hair styled and coloured since last they saw one another – a soft cut with lots of layers, the ends curled outward a bit, with vibrant orange on his crown and a more natural dark underneath.  He can’t wait to run his hands through it.  No one in the world could make traffic cone orange hair look as stunning as Jun-Ji does; Arimatsu is sure of that.  Even Ju-Ken smiles and remarks on how flattering it is, and he’s not one to comment on people’s appearance.

Jun- Ji blushes at the compliment, thrilled that Ju-Ken has noticed and approves of the alteration.  Having someone that hot find you attractive in return does wonders for a person’s self-confidence.  Yet, it’s Arimatsu’s heated stare that sets a fire burning low in Jun-Ji’s belly.  He’s missed Arimatsu.  Four weeks is a long time to go without seeing someone you’ve fallen for hard.  He shoves that thought to the back of his mind, though, because he’s not _supposed_ to be falling for Arimatsu at the moment; he’s supposed to be… getting his ear pierced.

Jun-Ji barely waits for Arimatsu to confirm he has time before his next appointment to give Jun-Ji’s ear another piercing before strolling back to their usual spot, an extra little swagger in his step as he goes.  Arimatsu’s mouth is so dry he sounds like a frog when he croaks for Hazuki to man the desk.  Hazuki has to grab Arimatsu’s shoulder and literally shake him to bring him out of his haze enough that he’ll listen when the younger tattooist reminds Arimatsu that if the customer wants a piercing, he might… ya know… need to take the jewellery with him.

Oh, right.  Jewellery.  How very… unimportant that seems at the moment.

Jun-Ji hasn’t given any thoughts to jewellery either, nor does he particularly care about the pretextual dance they do before getting down to business, so long as they _do_ get down to business and soon.

“How’s the lip feeling?” Arimatsu asks his usual initial question.

Jun-Ji puckers his lips, pretending he’s trying to see his them, just to be a tease.

“It feels like it’s completely healed.  But you’re the expert.  What do you think?”

Arimatsu stares for a few seconds at the small crystal glimmering against Jun-Ji’s skin, debating whether he dares.  One kiss as a test can’t hurt, right?  And Jun-Ji does seem to be offering….

He presses his lips to Jun-Ji’s firmly but briefly.

“Did that hurt?”

The kiss has set Jun-Ji’s body humming like a tuning fork, but certainly not in pain.  In fact, Jun-Ji thinks he might just go mad if Arimatsu _doesn’t_ do that again.

“No,” he answers as he’s grabbing Arimatsu by the belt buckle.

“Good.”

Arimatsu barely gets the word out before he’s dragged into Jun-Ji’s arms, their lips crashing together again fiercely.  He can’t help it.  He’d planned on being tender, coaxing, easing them into something deeper, but the instant their lips meet, all he can think of is _MORE._   Jun-Ji’s mouth is heaven: sweet and spicy like cinnamon chewing gum.  Arimatsu grabs the younger man by the hair, tugging his head to the side to gain a better angle, the other hand wedged between Jun-Ji’s backside and the wall.

Apparently Jun-Ji doesn’t mind, given the fervour with which he reciprocates Arimatsu’s passion.  He works Arimatsu’s shirt up until it’s bunched under his arms, tugging insistently to try to get it off completely while unwilling to let the piercer move away long enough to actually remove it.

“Ari,” he moans softly.

The sound makes Arimatsu’s stomach twist in need.  Need to touch and taste and earn himself more of that wonderful, gasping voice. 

“Lemme….” Arimatsu pants.

He steps back to disrobe, and Jun-Ji takes the opportunity to toss his own shirt aside as well.

 _Gods, yes, skin on skin_.

Arimatsu would love to worship every millimetre of Jun-Ji’s skin with his tongue.  Some other time.  Right now, his tongue is needed elsewhere.  So his hands take over, stroking and mapping the curve of every rib, the ridge of every vertebrae, the firm swell of muscular ass.

Pants?  They’re gone.  Who knows or cares where.

Skin. 

That’s all that matters.  Jun-Ji’s gorgeous, heated skin.

“So… fucking… sexy…” he mutters between blistering kisses.

He’s not even sure what he’s saying, but the way Jun-Ji’s blunt nails are digging crescent moon approval into his inked flesh, the way his hips rock up against Arimatsu, it must be turning the younger man on.

A second or an hour – time means literally nothing when the whole world is wrapped up in sensation.  Jun-Ji could live an eternity in each one of these moments, when there’s so much of Arimatsu to experience.  The placement of each fingertip, the tickling drip of each bead of sweat. How his breathing shallows and his pulse accelerates and his muscles are quivering as everything draws nearer to the goal they are trying to avoid for as long as possible because it’s just so. Damn. Good.

Arimatsu swallows the strangled moan Jun-Ji makes as he finds his release, grinding hard through the sudden slickness to push himself over the edge not long after.  Then it’s the struggle to stay upright as his legs and mind and heart turn to absolute mush.  Arimatsu really hopes he has stopped talking because if he says aloud what he’s thinking, things might get awkward. But Jun-Ji still clings to him, so he must have managed to keep those thoughts to himself.

“You kissed me,” Jun-Ji observes breathlessly, resting his head against the concrete behind him.  “You’ve never kissed me on the lips before.”

Arimatsu finally relinquishes his hold so that he can retrieve his trousers from around his ankles.  He’d rather not face rejection stark naked.

“Sorry.  Should I not have?”

Jun-Ji hears the worry and disappointment in the piercer’s voice and can’t quite believe that after what just happened Arimatsu could believe Jun-Ji is objecting.  He reaches out to stroke lightly over a dragon’s sinewy coils.

“Don’t you think I’d have stopped you if I didn’t want to?” he chides.  “You’re a good kisser.  You just never… so I thought maybe that was one of your ‘terms’ with Ju-Ken.”

Arimatsu finds his way back into Jun-Ji’s arms immediately.

“Oh, not at all.”

He gives Jun-Ji another kiss as if to emphasize the point.

“If anything, it’s a self-imposed habit from going to clubs.  The taste of tobacco on a guy’s tongue may be an instant hard-on, but that’s a quick way to fall off the wagon.”

“You smoked?”

Jun-Ji is surprised.  There’s never the faintest hint of tobacco on Arimatsu’s breath or clothing.

“How long since you quit?”

Arimatsu cocks his head to the side and counts.

“Almost… a year this time.  Last time was… 18 months?  But then shit happened, and…”

At that moment, a sharp tapping sounds on the doorframe, and Jun-Ji scrambles to hike his trousers back into place.

“Yeah?” Arimatsu calls once he’s decent.

The curtain slides open a bit, and Hazuki pokes his head in.

“Your next appointment is here.”

Not at all what Arimatsu wants to hear.  He wants time to hold Jun-Ji and talk, to kiss him some more and maybe think about trying for Round 2.  But work before play is the rule.

“Okay.  Let me find my shirt, and I’ll be right out.”

Hazuki’s nose wrinkles a little.

“You might also want to, er… spray some air freshener or light some incense or something, too,” he suggests before disappearing again.

Jun-Ji flushes from ears to shoulders.  Arimatsu grins and nuzzles his neck.

“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed.  Don’t worry about it, Juny.  I’ll pierce the guy in one of the other rooms.”

“S’long as that’s all you do to him,” Jun-Ji grumbles.

Of course, he says it like it’s a joke, and Arimatsu laughs like it’s a joke, but it’s not really a joke. 

For once, Jun-Ji walks home without any new metal in his body, although the hole in his heart has grown considerably larger.

 

Jun-Ji doesn’t wait another month before returning to the tattoo shop this time.  Only eight days of debate, self-doubt, and the Universe giving not-so-subtle hints pass before he gives in and traverses the now-familiar pavement: pavement that seems to contract now he crosses it with a purpose.

 _Maybe this is will all go up in flames_ , he acknowledges to himself, _but I have to try_.

Misgivings double as he opens the door to find five customers seated on the benches waiting; Jun-Ji has never encountered a crowd that size here before.  Hazuki and Arimatsu are huddled together at the computer, holding a muttered conversation, and the smile on Arimatsu’s face when he finally glances Jun-Ji’s direction is a rather weary, apologetic one.

“Hey, Juny,” he greets.  “Did you have something booked tonight?”

Jun-Ji shoves his hands in his pockets and shakes his head. 

“We’re pretty full as you can see,” Arimatsu grimaces. “I mean, if it’s something quick, I could probably squeeze it in, but… I don’t think I’d have time for a full appointment.”

They both know he means he doesn’t have time for any extracurricular activities, and it bothers Jun-Ji that things have progressed to the point that the piercer thinks that’s all he could possibly be after.

“Actually, I just wanted to talk to you for a minute, but I guess it might be better if I come by tomorrow or….”

“No, don’t….” Arimatsu catches the younger man by the wrist, heedless of who else may notice.

He really doesn’t want to let Jun-Ji leave; something tells him it would be a mistake to let him go.

“If you can wait for a little while, I’ll have a little time after I finish with those two girls.”

Jun-Ji studies his dark, pleading eyes for a moment.

_I’ve waited this long…._

“Sure, I can wait.”

There’s nowhere in particular for Jun-Ji to sit, so he props himself against the wall, pretending to play on his mobile while he silently rehearses the speech he’s prepared.

 

Arimatsu finishes his clients’ piercings as quickly as he can, gives them his well-rehearsed spiel about hygiene in a rather rushed manner, then hurries to the front to cash them out.  As soon as he’s back, Hazuki motions his own waiting client toward the back, and things go from uncomfortably close to just slightly busy.

Arimatsu circles the desk to stand in front of Jun-Ji, his back to the other customers, even though he knows they will hear every word if they bother to listen.

“Sorry,” Arimatsu apologizes in a low voice, “Can’t really leave the register unattended.”

Jun-Ji frowns a little and shrugs.

“I thought about calling ahead, but since this is a personal thing, it didn’t seem appropriate to ring the shop.  And I don’t know your private number, so….”

Arimatsu blanches.  ‘Personal things that can’t be discussed on the shop line’ sounds rather foreboding.

“Yeah, I guess you don’t.”

“Turns out,” Jun-Ji adds with a humourless laugh, “There are a lot of basic things I don’t know about you.  I don’t know your given name or how old you are or where you’re from.  I don’t know if I’m even allowed to ask for that sort of personal information.”

 _Jun-Ji doesn’t even feel entitled to know his name?_  Arimatsu is filled with guilt. 

“I mean, we’ve hooked up now… what… six… seven times?  I don’t know what we are or if we’re allowed to be anything at all.  I….”

He rakes his hand through his hair in frustration.  This isn’t how he’d planned the conversation to go.

“Look.  My sister tried to set me up on a date with one of her co-workers earlier this week.”

Arimatsu’s heart drops to his toes.  _Jun-Ji wants to break it off._

“And when I told her I wasn’t interested in having dinner with some kindergarten teacher, she started pestering me about whether I’m seeing someone.  The only answer I could honestly give her was ‘I don’t know’, but I really _wanted_ to be able to say ‘yes’.  So I finally decided to come over here and ask… if you are allowed to and if you _want_ to… maybe get a cup of coffee sometime… or lunch.  ‘Cause I don’t know whether you even like coffee, but I have to think you probably eat at least occasionally.”

_Not breaking it off at all; the complete, perfect opposite!_

Arimatsu’s chest feels tight and his cheeks hurt from smile that’s found its way to his face. 

“Yeah, I eat.  Pretty regularly, in fact.  Though I have to warn you, I’m not one for fancy places.  They don’t let me in looking how I look anyhow.”

Jun-Ji grins and reaches out to trace over the tattoo curling around Arimatsu’s bicep.

“I have orange hair and a lip ring.  If they don’t want you, they’re definitely not gonna accept me.  Besides, I wouldn’t want to go anywhere you wouldn’t be welcome.”

Arimatsu hides the heat creeping into his cheeks by turning away in search of his mobile so that he can type out a quick message.

“There’s my number.  I… I’ve had yours saved since that first night you came in,” he admits, “But I just haven’t been able to think of a reason to call or message you that didn’t make me a seem like stalker.”

Jun-Ji slides a little closer.

“Like I would have minded.  Is tomorrow too soon?”

 _Too soon_.  There’s no such thing as ‘too soon’ in Arimatsu’s opinion.

“Tomorrow’s great,” he confirms.  “Text me with a time and place.”

Jun-Ji glances over Arimatsu’s shoulder; the two men still waiting on the benches have pointedly turned their attention elsewhere, so he risks a brief peck on the lips before retreating to a more socially-acceptable distance.

“Until tomorrow then.”

Tomorrow can’t possibly happen quickly enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week's [chapter title](https://youtu.be/SJo4Zag3-zs).


	4. Destination Truth

Jun-Ji texts Arimatsu to verify that 1 PM is an acceptable time for their lunch date, but rather than specifying a place, he simply replies:

**I’ll pick you up.**

When he arrives at the tattoo shop and suggests that they walk to a nearby burger place, Arimatsu demands to know whether Jun-Ji has been scheming with Ju-Ken behind his back. 

“He told you hamburgers are my favourite food, didn’t he?”

“I haven’t spoken to him since my last piercing appointment,” Jun-Ji denies as he leads his date out the door.

Ju-Ken waits until they’re gone before turning his attention to his conspicuously silent employee.

“That was your suggestion, wasn’t it?” he accuses good-naturedly.  “I never took you for the match-making sort.”

Hazuki looks him square in the eye and smirks.

“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”

 

Jun-Ji and Arimatsu settle at a small table at the back of the shabby restaurant, out of the way of the normal mid-afternoon crowd.  For a few minutes, they pretend to ignore the awkwardness by perusing the menu, even though Arimatsu always orders the exact same thing every time, and Jun-Ji couldn’t care less about what toppings they put on his sandwich today.  After the waitress comes by to take their order, that particular crutch is gone, and they’re forced to strike up an actual conversation: something that’s surprisingly difficult considering everything that’s passed between them.

Arimatsu makes the first attempt.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said last night… that you weren’t sure if you were allowed to know personal things about me, and that’s… Juny, that’s not okay.  I’m sorry you ever felt that way.  I’m sorry I _made_ you feel that way.  This…” he gestures across the table, “Whatever we’ve got going won’t work if you think of yourself as less entitled to be part of my life than Ken.  And I realize that’s mostly my fault for leaving that statement about ‘terms’ hanging in the air without any clarification.

“Ken and I have been together for about 13 years now, and it’s an open relationship, so we both see other people as seriously or as casually as we want.  I should have explained that sooner, because we obviously gave you the impression it was a ‘physical only’ sort of arrangement.  Which I’ve done before, when that’s all the other person was looking for.  But you made it sound like you’re interested in something more than that, and… I’m glad, because I think we have a great connection.”

He reaches out to give Jun-Ji’s hand a squeeze, only to have to withdraw a moment later so the server can set their drinks down.

“Let’s see what all you wanted to know,” he continues when she disappears again.  “My given name is Hiroshi, but my grandmother is the only person on earth who calls me by it.  Born and raised here in the city.  I’m a slightly more than a year older than you: December birthday.”

“How do you know how old I am?”

Arimatsu squirms a little.

“From the paperwork you filled out.”

“You just _happen_ to remember my birthday out of all your clients?” Jun-Ji teases.

He’s feeling a lot more confident about life today that he was the previous evening.

“I looked, okay!” Arimatsu laughs.  “You _seemed_ like someone age-appropriate for me, but it’s difficult to tell sometimes.”

“Still an abuse of authority,” declares Jun-Ji with a broad wink so Arimatsu knows he’s not serious.  “Good thing you’re dating the boss, or you’d have been fired by now.”

“What makes you think _he’s_ the boss?”

“Hmm, maybe it’s the fact that he’s the one with the ‘art before play’ rule?”

Arimatsu can’t argue with that.  They may be equal partners, but Ju-Ken is usually the one ‘in charge’ – in all contexts.

He squirms some more and shoves certain thoughts away until later.

“Have the two of you always had this sort of… open arrangement?” asks Jun-Ji curiously.

“No, not always.  Took a couple of years for us to figure things out in that regard – compromises that work for us.  And if you and I are going to be together, you get a say in how all of this goes, too.  It’s not just what Ken and I decide, take it or leave it.  Different people want and need different things, and I’ll do my best to find ways to accommodate.”

Once again, discussion is stalled by the arrival of the waitress with their food.  Jun-Ji tries to ignore the erotic groan of enjoyment Arimatsu makes when he takes his first bite.

“Is there anything in the world as good as a fresh burger?”

“I can think of a few things, yeah,” Jun-Ji ventures, giving the ketchup a shake, “Although, none of them is really first-date discussion appropriate.”

Arimatsu scoffs.

“We’re kinda past the first-date stage on most accounts, aren’t we?”

“I guess we _have_ sorta done things backwards,” Jun-Ji acknowledges.

“Doesn’t matter to me,” declares Arimatsu.  “I’m fine with moving backwards by other people’s standards as long as we’re moving forward according to our own.”

That brings a lopsided smile to Jun-Ji’s face.

“You’re cute.”

Not an adjective Arimatsu normally hears, but he accepts it with a smile of his own and only a brief rolling of the eyes.

“So tell me how you and Juken-san came to this arrangement in the first place,” Jun-Ji queries, eager to learn more about his new boyfriend.

Arimatsu nods, chewing rapidly so that he can answer.

“I’d never been serious with anyone before I met Ken, and then I met him and he was just… I fell hard.  Worshipped the ground he walked on.  Still do, really.”

Jun-Ji certainly understands why but doesn’t bother interrupting to say so.

“For the first year or so, no one else in the world existed but him.  Once the newness started to fade, I began noticing other people again; but, for… probably another six months?, I tried to ignore it and convince myself I could be the sort of person who only has one partner for life.  Eventually, I accepted that wasn’t a realistic expectation, and we talked about it.  Made some compromises.  Argued a bit when things didn’t go as planned.  Trial and error.”

“So he wasn’t… open before he met you?”

Arimatsu shakes his head.

“He wasn’t polyamorous, no.”

Jun-Ji wrinkles his nose.

“That must have made things rougher in the beginning.”

He’s thinking as much from his own perspective as from Ju-Ken’s.  Thus far, everything with Arimatsu has been fine, but he has the added advantages of being aware from very early on that an established relationship exists and being very attracted to Arimatsu’s soulmate himself.  If they’d been in a committed relationship _first_ ….

“In some ways, it was rough,” Arimatsu acknowledges.  “His experience was a bit different than mine in that regard.  I’ve mostly always been into guys, but Ken’s a pretty even split between men and women.  So it was fairly natural to him to continue being attracted to women while having a male soulmate; allowing himself to feel that way about men not me took longer.  And it’s still much more likely for his other partners to be women rather than men… the few he’s had.”

“Are you seeing anyone else?  Other than me.”

“Nope.  Three is the most I’ve ever dated at once, but two of those were pretty casual.  I’m not intentionally limiting myself to two, but there just aren’t enough hours in the week to give people the time they deserve if you try to balance too many commitments.”

Jun-Ji chews on his burger thoughtfully.

“It’s interesting his being bisexual made things easier.  My ex got just as upset when I noticed a hot guy as she did when I found another woman attractive.  Something about ‘not being able to compete’.”

“Because romance is a competition, and love is finite,” observes Arimatsu wryly.  “She wasn’t very secure in your affection for her, was she?”

Jun-Ji shrugs.  That’s a knot he’s long since given up trying to untangle.

“So what exactly are the terms of your open-ness.  I wouldn’t want to do anything that crosses a line or could cause problems between the two of you.”

“You won’t,” Arimatsu assures him.  “Most of it is practical stuff.  Respecting the privacy of the people we’re with by not discussing certain…intimate things.  Particular days that we’ve both agreed we won’t make plans with other people.”

“Like your anniversary?”

“Like that, yeah.  Also, not bringing someone home unannounced; since we live together, that could get uncomfortable for everyone.  And,” he suddenly frowns, “Being safe.”

“Safe?”

“Something _else_ I should apologize to you for.  When you were filling out your paperwork for the tattoo, I saw you were STD free, but I should have actually asked you if you wanted me to use a condom.”

The blood drains from Jun-Ji’s face.

“It’s been so long since I had to remember to be careful, that I didn’t even think.  A-are you…?”

“Gods, no, I don’t have anything contagious!  I definitely would have warned you if I did.”

Arimatsu reaches for Jun-Ji’s hand once more. 

“It’s just you didn’t _know_ I whether I was or not, and I should have been more explicit in giving you the option.  I’m sorry.”

“I… forgive you.”

Jun-Ji quickly changes the subject to a lighter topic, but in the back of his mind, he begins compiling a list of what he might want to address in his own ‘terms’ for a relationship.  Because it’s obvious there are several things he’s failed to consider when diving heart-first into this love.

 

Aside from temporary discomfort over risks he neglected to calculate, Jun-Ji has a wonderful time during their lunch date.  So much, in fact, that he is loath to leave; returning to work and adult responsibilities seems like such an unappealing prospect.  Everything is so much _better_ when Arimatsu is with him, and the few blocks they have to travel back to the piercing parlour don’t take nearly as long as either of them would like. 

They stroll back as slowly as they can: shoulder to shoulder, the backs of their hands brushing regularly.  The electricity between them is astounding.  Anyone would think they were two virginal teenagers rather than grown men who had been intimate on multiple occasions.  It’s a wonderful feeling, that something so innocent can be so enticing in its newness.  Jun-Ji stops in front of the door, wishing he had an excuse to go in.

“So, how was that for a first date?” he asks half-joking.

Arimatsu grins at him.

“One of the best I’ve ever had.”

Jun-Ji’s heart practically melts.

“I’m glad.  Not sure what to do from here, though.  I’d really like to kiss you, but I’m not sure a ‘goodnight’ kiss is appropriate for a first date.”

Arimatsu cocks his head to the side and thinks for a minute.

“Well, since we’ve been doing everything else backwards, what if we act like this is date number 50 instead?  A goodbye kiss is definitely appropriate for date number 50.”

Whatever answer Jun-Ji was going to make is cut off by Arimatsu’s lips pressed hungrily to his own.  Jun-Ji responds immediately, teasing Arimatsu’s tongue with his own, stroking the sensitive roof of his mouth until they’re both utterly weak at the knees.

“T-too bad,” Arimatsu gasps, “This isn’t an actual good _night_ kiss.  If it were, I’d drag you inside for quite a few other things that aren’t appropriate for a first date.”

Jun-Ji laughs at him breathlessly.

“And if I didn’t have a customer in half an hour, I’d let you, no matter what time of the day it is.”

He gives Arimatsu one last kiss, full of promises for ‘next time’, then forces himself to step away.

“Call me later,” he requests.

Arimatsu gives him an affectionate squeeze and relinquishes his hold, leaning against doorframe until Jun-Ji turns the corner and disappears from sight.

 

The piercer is unable to wipe the huge grin from his face for the remainder of the day, and he’s so unbelievably _happy_ that he doesn’t even care about Ju-Ken and Hazuki’s smug looks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **1)** This week's [chapter title](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XleboMMUyBw). Sorry it's not as long as usual, but plot tribbles are... sporatic little creatures.  
>  **2)** Ari was 19-ish when he met Ken. I think. They're still holding out on me re: specifics of their first meeting. Brats.  
>  **3)** Time frame for the fic puts it before the shift in lingo from "STD" to "STI". As if that's going to matter to anyone.


	5. Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're looking for mood music for the first half of the chapter, I'd suggest Acid Android's [Hello World](https://youtu.be/6j6DZegWjXE) album.

Now that Jun-Ji and Arimatsu are officially dating, there’s no reason to go a month at a time without seeing one another.  There’s also no reason to hang out in the tattoo parlour anymore.  As Arimatsu points out, no ‘bring your date to the office’ day exists on the calendar, and why stay at work where there’s… _work_ to do when they could be out enjoying life.  Going out and enjoying life means that Jun-Ji’s interactions with Ju-Ken dwindle from occasional to practically non-existent.  The excitement of his new relationship means that Jun-Ji can mostly disregard the let-down, but it _is_ there.

Despite the thrill, there are times when Arimatsu has to coax Jun-Ji out of his shell, as he declares himself “too old” for many of the activities Arimatsu suggests, even while wistfully recalling how much fun they _used_ to be.  Arimatsu is convinced this is just leftover negativity from his previous relationship, and drags Jun-Ji back out into the thriving nightlife of the city: dive bars, underground clubs, small live houses, funky art galleries and clothing boutiques.  Jun-Ji almost always concedes the following day that Arimatsu was right, and an occasional hangover or ringing in the ears is small price to pay for a good time.

 

Tonight is one of those nights when Jun-Ji is feeling out of his element.  Arimatsu has persuaded Jun-Ji to coming dancing with him, over protest that Jun-Ji doesn’t know how to ‘gyrate’ like ‘kids these days’.  The heavy techno beat that smacks them in the face as soon as they enter the stairwell doesn’t make him feel any more confident, nor do the flashes of faces and clothing he sees under the multi-coloured laser show projected against the mirrored ceiling.  Even with his orange hair and piercings, Jun-Ji feels out of place: an impostor.

“I’m really not sure about this, Ari.”

Arimatsu ignores his hesitation and tugs Jun-Ji out toward the centre.

“Just move your hips like you do when you’ve got me on my knees,” he suggests.

He has to speak quite loudly to be heard over the thumping bass, and several people nearby turn to stare.  Jun-Ji would swear every person in the place must be judging him.  Fortunately, he doesn’t have long to think about it before the lights flash wildly and a cheer goes up from the crowd as some seemingly -favourite song begins to play.  He doesn’t recognize it, but he’s very familiar with the hands grabbing his ass.

“Stop thinking and dance,” orders Arimatsu.

It takes a few songs for Jun-Ji to loosen up enough to do that, but eventually he is able to focus his attention on the rhythm and his alluring boyfriend rather than himself.  Arimatsu is a terrific dancer, and the more he dances, the more his muscular, inked torso becomes visible as perspiration soaks through fabric of his tight white tank, leaving it clinging to his body. 

There are some in the throng who eye him warily and give him a wide berth because of the numerous tattoos on his body, but as many if not more who obviously have _no_ objection to inked skin.  During the course of the evening, several people ask Arimatsu to dance.  A few even get a bit friendly… like maybe they know him and expect him to behave rather the way he did the first time Jun-Ji visited the tattoo parlour.  Arimatsu smiles at them, thanks them for whatever compliments they throw his way, and then declines their offers, proudly stating he’s not planning to dance with anyone except his boyfriend tonight.  Some shrug and move to the next person to catch their eye; others seem disappointed, silently glaring at Jun-Ji as they slink off.  One actually winks and tells Arimatsu to come find her near the bar when he changes his mind.

“I’m not going to change my mind,” he declares the second she’s gone.  “No way am I walking away from the hottest guy in the building.”

It sounds like a pickup line, but his tone, while sultry, indicates no insincerity.  In fact, the flash of desire in Arimatsu’s eyes has Jun-Ji’s temperature spiking, and without stopping to wonder if it’s appropriate, Jun-Ji twines his arms around Arimatsu’s middle and tucks his fingers under the elastic of the black-and-white plaid boxers visible over the waistband of Arimatsu’s low-riding jeans.

“Now that’s more like it, Juny,” he purrs, smirking against his boyfriend’s shoulder.

Jun-Ji tries to keep his hands from wandering inappropriately; just because other people on the dance floor don’t mind groping their partners doesn’t mean he will.  Arimatsu apparently has other ideas, however, pressing more insistently into Jun-Ji’s body with every passing second.  Finally, Jun-Ji can’t take it anymore and leans forward to steal a heated kiss.  Arimatsu moans into his mouth, grabbing Jun-Ji’s ass and grinding against him.

“Fuck, Ari,” Jun-Ji pants.

“If you wanna,” Arimatsu agrees brazenly.

Jun-Ji grins and shakes his head.

“I don’t think the middle of the dance floor isn’t the best place to be making out.”

Arimatsu grabs Jun-Ji’s wrist, intending to steer him toward the men’s room, but Jun-Ji keeps his arms firmly around his boyfriend.

“You’re gonna need to give me a minute, unless you want the entire place to get a look at how hard you’ve made me.”

Arimatsu leans in so he can speak directly in Jun-Ji’s ear rather than yelling over the music.

“Waiting would defeat the purpose.  Let them have a good look and envy me even more.  Come on; there’s a lavatory stall with our name on it.”

Jun-Ji hesitates for a moment, before replying:

“We can manage a better setting than a club restroom, can’t we?  Somewhere we can take our time?”

True, they probably can.  And while Arimatsu loves that feeling of ‘just can’t want another second to have you’, he also thrills at the endless possibilities of what might happen in uninterrupted privacy.

“I guess that means it’s time to go.”

He guides Jun-Ji toward the exit as eagerly as he had propelled him into the crowd only a few hours before, and smirks at every single person who makes eye contact.

_Yep, I’m gonna get some.  Don’t you wish you were too!_

There are, in fact, a lot of envious and appreciative looks as they head toward the door, and for once Jun-Ji notices that not _all_ of the admiration is directed at Arimatsu.  Some of them are actually staring at him and wanting _him_.  Go figure.  Not that he’s the slightest bit interested in any of them.

They step out onto the street, cool evening breeze hitting their perspiration-damp skin and making them shiver.

“Do you…?”

Jun-Ji’s question is interrupted by a very enthusiastic kiss that has his head spinning with the intensity.  There are so many things he wants to do with and to Arimatsu, but in this particular moment, losing himself eternally in the sensation of lips and tongue sounds like perfection.

As if sensing when he’s thinking, Arimatsu pulls away with a mischievous grin.

“Pavement isn’t any better than lavatory or dance floor,” he teases.  “There’s a love hotel not far from here.”

He’s off down the street before Jun-Ji can answer, and it takes the younger man nearly two blocks before he catches up.  As they wait for the traffic signal to change, Jun-Ji draws Arimatsu close once again.

“Is Ju-Ken expecting you back tonight?” he asks.

Mesmerized by a drip of sweat trickling down his boyfriend’s neck, he leans over to nibble at it, relishing the way it makes the piercer squirm.  Arimatsu tilts his head back invitingly, amused that Jun-Ji has become such an exhibitionist. 

_Damn does it feel good to be this wanted!_

“Nope, told him I’d be out all night.”

That’s just what Jun-Ji wants to hear.  He continues his ministrations, tracing Arimatsu’s tattoos with the tip of his tongue and scraping over the junction between neck and shoulder with his teeth.  Not biting… yet… merely hinting.

“Come home with me,” he murmurs gruffly.

Arimatsu is so distracted by how sexy Jun-Ji’s voice sounds that he entirely misses the meaning of the words at first.

“Wha-?”

“Come home with me so that I can make love to you in a bed for once.”

 _That_ Arimatsu understands.

“Yeah, right.  Make love,” he scorns, tugging eagerly at Jun-Ji’s hair to redirect him to a more sensitive spot.

But Jun-Ji suddenly withdraws, uncertainty and confusion written on his face.

“Y-yeah…?”

Arimatsu rolls his eyes.

“Come on, Juny.  I’m a _guy_.”

Jun-Ji’s bewilderment intensifies.

“I’m _very_ aware of that.”

Arimatsu scoffs again and shakes his head.

“Guys don’t ‘make love’.”

The tone he uses is so… dismissive, as if only an imbecile would say something so preposterous.  It hurts.  Not quite as much as hearing “you’re not my soulmate anymore”, but almost.  And it certainly has Jun-Ji questioning everything he thought he knew about their relationship.

Jun-Ji takes another step back to search Arimatsu’s face for some sort of explanation.  He doesn’t find one.  And that feeds the gnawing suspicion growing inside of him that he’s gotten this whole thing very wrong, and that Arimatsu isn’t emotionally investing in what they have after all.

“Oh.  I guess… f-forget it then.”

Arimatsu can tell that he’s screwed up by the way Jun-Ji shoves his fists into his pockets and stares down at his feet, although he’s not entirely certain what his mistake was. 

“Juny.”

He reaches out to draw his boyfriend back into his arms, but Jun-Ji turns away, walking off the direction they’d been going before they’d gotten side-tracked.  Arimatsu trails helplessly after him, calling:

“Baby, I didn’t mean for it to sound like I don’t want to come over!”

It’s on the tip of Jun-Ji’s tongue to tell Arimatsu he’s not in the mood anymore.  That whatever it was things were leading to is gone.  But allowing the night to end like that would feel like a bad omen.  What else can he do?  He pushes it all to the background and continues on.

“It’s… this way,” he indicates a side street.

Silence falls between them as Arimatsu follows Jun-Ji into a nondescript building and up a couple flights of stairs.  It seems to the piercer as if he ought to apologize, but that would probably ring hollow since he doesn’t understand what the problem is.  If anything, an empty apology might make things worse.

Jun-Ji unlocks a door mid-way along the corridor and allows Arimatsu into a small but tidy genkan.

“Make yourself at home,” he instructs, taking the trouble to kneel and untie his shoelaces for once rather than just toeing the boots off.  “There should be some bottles of water in the cabinet beside the kitchen sink if you’re thirsty, and you’re welcome to use the shower.”

Arimatsu doesn’t care about that sort of thirst.  He just wants to rewind the evening to before he spoiled the mood.

“Juny.”

He tentatively lays a hand on the younger man’s shoulder, which causes Jun-Ji to tense up for a second.

_Shit, I’ve really fucked this up, haven’t I?_

“D-do you want me to go?”

Jun-Ji turns and looks up into the piercer’s worried face.

“Do you want to go?”

“No.”

If there had been even a moment’s hesitation, Jun-Ji’s heart would have shattered.  Thank heavens there isn’t.

“Then I don’t want you to.  Come in, and I’ll find you a towel.  We could probably both use a rinse off after that crowded club.

It’s as he’s pacing back and forth across the bedroom, listening to the sounds of the shower running, that Jun-Ji reaches a decision.

_Guys don’t make love, huh?  I’ll show you._

There’s nothing feminine about the way Jun-Ji tosses Arimatsu to the mattress and strips away the towel at his waist.  Or the way he pins the piercer beneath him while slowly laying claim to every centimetre of flesh.  But he pours his adoration and desire into every touch, gentle or harsh, willing Arimatsu to understand that gender doesn’t matter.

Arimatsu doesn’t hear the deeper meaning, because he isn’t aware he should be listening for it.  After all, things are always this electric between them.  He certainly wasn’t expecting such a display of passion, but he readily lets Jun-Ji have his way, moaning praises and begging for more until his throat is hoarse.  When it’s over, Arimatsu drifts off to sleep, perfectly content and blissfully unaware of the turmoil in his boyfriend’s mind.

 

The awkwardness is back in full force the next morning.   Jun-Ji wakes to his lover trying to dress as quickly and quietly as he can.  The guilty expression on Arimatsu’s face when he notices Jun-Ji watching him seems to confirm that he’d been planning to sneak off without saying ‘goodbye’.

“I gotta run, Juny; I’ve got some stuff I’ve gotta catch up on before the shop opens – bills and whatnot.”

_Stuff.  Right._

Jun-Ji nods.

“Sure.  Have a good day.”

The younger man’s countenance shows such a peculiar mixture of sorrow and resignation that Arimatsu wishes he were lying about having things to do so that he could stay and decipher whatever it is that remains unresolved between them.  Unfortunately, it isn’t a lie, so Arimatsu gives Jun-Ji a hasty kiss on the forehead and whispers:

“I’ll call you later.”

Jun-Ji doesn’t get out of bed to show Arimatsu to the door.  He lounges on his stomach listening for the click of the latch, and once it comes, he buries his face in the pillow so that he can shout out some of his frustration.

 

The very last thing that Ju-Ken expects to find when he strolls into the tattoo shop, steaming cup of coffee in one hand and a curry bun in the other, is his soulmate bent over a desk scattered with bills and receipts, stabbing forcefully at a calculator as if the devise recently insulted his deceased parents.

Ju-Ken studies his partner closely.  After a night out with Jun-Ji, Arimatsu ought to be relaxed and carefree, yet his entire body is as tense as a bowstring.

“Morning, Babe.”

Arimatsu makes a vague noise in reply.

“Have fun last night?”

“Mm.”

Oh yeah, something is definitely wrong. 

“Well, that’s certainly not the level of enthusiasm I expected.  What happened?” Ju-Ken probes.  “Did you run into an ex?  Did _he_?”

Arimatsu sighs in exasperation.  He has been going over and over what happened last night, and it seems to him that he’s identified what started the trouble.  Now he just needs to figure out _why_ it started trouble.  But is this something he is allowed to discuss with his soulmate, or would that be over-sharing?  Then again, who else is he going to talk to?

“Ken, do we ever… make love?”

Ju-Ken gives his partner a rather incredulous look.

“What kind of question is _that_?”

Arimatsu refuses to make eye contact, choosing instead to frown at the folder of equipment invoices.

“Juny and I had a… well, there wasn’t enough said to call it a disagreement, but somehow I upset him.”

Ju-Ken draws a chair up next to the desk and ponders as he chews his breakfast.  Ordinarily, he stays out of his soulmate’s other relationships; but he likes Jun-Ji, and he’d hate to see Arimatsu lose someone he cares about so much.

“Can you tell me what was said that led up to him being upset?”

“We’d… left the club, and he… asked me to come home with him….”

Ju-Ken nods.  No surprises there.

“…so that he could _make love_ to me.”

The memory is awkward, and saying it aloud makes Arimatsu squirm with discomfort.  Ju-Ken can hear the distaste in his soulmate’s voice and frowns, struck by the uneasy feeling that he knows where this is all headed.

“How did you react?”

“I sorta… laughed.”

Ju-Ken’s frown deepens.

“You laughed?  For gods’ sake, Ari, no wonder he was upset!”

“It just sounded so ridiculous I couldn’t help it,” Arimatsu rationalizes.  “Men don’t make love.”

“Please tell me you didn’t _say_ that to him,” the tattooist groans.

Arimatsu’s arms cross over his chest defensively.  Ju-Ken takes a large gulp of his coffee and thinks to himself that it’s not nearly strong enough for this sort of conversation.

“If men don’t make love, what would you call what we do?”

“I dunno,” Arimatsu shifts uncomfortably.  “‘Having sex’, I guess.”

“And what about a random guy you’ve picked up at a bar?”

“That’s fucking,” Arimatsu answers without hesitation this time.

“So, ‘having sex’ with me is different than ‘fucking’ some stranger from the club.”

“Of course it is.”

“Even when I pin you against wall and grind against you until you lose your mind?” persists Ju-Ken.

Arimatsu’s cheeks heat at the memory of his soulmate doing just that on several occasions.

“E-everything is different when it’s you, Ken.”

That’s reassuring, at least.  But here’s where things get tricky.

“Which do you do with Juny?”

The question hangs heavy in the air, and Arimatsu’s stomach churns with it.

“You don’t actually have to say aloud,” clarifies Ju-Ken.  “It’s really none of my business.  But think about it.  Is your involvement with him closer to random stranger at the club or to me?”

“To you!” Arimatsu retorts hotly.  “I’m not _dating_ random stranger at the club.  That still doesn’t….”

“You’re thinking about the situation from your own viewpoint,” his soulmate interrupts.  “Think about it from Juny’s.  From the bits you’ve told me, he thought he was just a piece of ass to you until recently.  And then when he asked you to come home with him, you laughed.”

“I _told_ him I wasn’t laughing at the idea of going home with him.”

Ju-Ken tugs at his goatee in frustration.

“You _also_ told him men don’t make love.  He wasn’t asking you for scented candles and flower petals scattered on satin sheets and all of those other clichés.  At least, I highly doubt he was.  That’s not what making love is about anyway.  It’s about the mental connection that accompanies the physical act.  He was asking to be close to you.  He was asking, to use your words, for _sex_ not fucking.”

Arimatsu’s eyes widen as the truth of his partner’s words sinks in.

“And I scoffed at him,” he groans.  “Shit.  How do I fix this?”

“Talk to him,” suggests Ju-Ken pragmatically.  “Apologize.  Explain.”

The piercer smiles mirthlessly.

“Seems like everything I do or say ends up requiring an apology.”

“Well, the alternative is to let the misunderstanding fester,” Ju-Ken shrugs.

Which is no alternative at all.  Arimatsu can’t stand the idea of losing Jun-Ji or hurting him further.

_What an absolute mess a difference of vocabulary can make!_

It’s never really an issue with Ju-Ken.  They’ve been together so long, understanding one another is second nature.  Or perhaps that’s part of the whole ‘soulmate’ thing.  Yet, Ju-Ken, who _isn’t_ dating Jun-Ji, seems to comprehend the younger man’s mind with very little difficulty.

_Could that mean something?_

“Ken, do you…?”

Arimatsu bites back the question.

“Do I make love to you?” Ju-Ken conjectures.  “From my perspective, yes.”

Not quite where Arimatsu’s thoughts have strayed.

“O-other people,” he redirects, only to regret it when he sees Ju-Ken’s pained expression.

“Not since _her_.”

Yet another thing for which Arimatsu must apologize, yet before he can, Ju-Ken stands and hurries toward the back, leaving his soulmate mentally rebuking himself for his blunder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **1)** I'm so sorry for how long it took me to update this. Being a responsible adult sucks. Also, this got angsty suddenly. WTF?  
>  **2)** The [song](https://youtu.be/KqLKPq2KsLE) from which this chapter takes its title include a nice duet between Hideki-kun and Endo-san. 10 out of 10. Would recommend.  
> 


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